No More Myths
by FredNeverDied
Summary: In the wake of the death of James' parents, his friends are nervous about how to approach him, as he's yet to cry a full week later. Bittersweet Jily moments ensue. T for brief, angry-James language.


A/N: In my headcanon, once people joined up with the Oder and officially went on the Death Eaters' hit list, they started staying at the headquarters for safety, especially the younger crowd, since they never had to find their own flats between gradating Hogwarts and joining up. So that's just why everyone is living together in this big house.

* * *

_No More Myths_

"…This isn't _normal_. Not for James, not for anybody..."

"…I've never _seen_ him like this before..."

"…He grieved differently when Emmeline was killed last month..."

"…Well of course he did. He was decent friends with Emmeline but this is his _parents_ we're talking about..."

"…The attack was only a week ago you lot. Give him time, it's not an issue yet..."

"Are you _kidding_? The way he's taking it...it's not healthy...not right…"

"Imagine someone murdering _your_ parents. Poor James, it must be horrible..."

"…Maybe we should just let the grief just run its' course...?"

"…No no, bad idea, we can't leave him alone. _Look_ at him...!"

The five congregated witches and wizards simultaneously leaned around the kitchen's doorframe and peered into the living room where their friend in question sat. James Potter, for his part, was reclining on the sofa with his back against the armrest, legs partly outstretched, and book in lap. At first glance, he seemed to be alright, the picture of relaxation in fact; but as the group noticed, and as they had _been_ noticing once every ten minutes as they checked on him, his hands were lip, face slack, eyes unseeing.

"He hasn't turned the page in half an hour." One of the witches—Marlene McKinnon—whispered. "It's just a show for the rest of us. Shouldn't he know there's no need to put up appearances?"

"That's just it though," replied the woman standing across from her, Alice Longbottom. "That's the way James is. His entire physis is to stay strong and encourage others with his own optimism. If he fails that, he fails himself and that's the last thing he thinks he's got."

"Loony morals if you ask me," Peter Pettigrew muttered, before adding, "I got that right, didn't I? Physis is like morals?"

"The physis is the nature of the indiv—" Remus Lupin began tiredly.

"_Boys_," hissed the fifth person, Lily Evans. "Not the time." Of the five of them, she regarded James with the most concern, she being his girlfriend of a year and a half; her eyes lingering on him longer than the others' and her mouth puckered with anxiety.

"Sorry," Remus and Peter mumbled.

The group moved back to hide behind the kitchen wall.

"Someone needs to talk to him," Marlene said after a moment.

"You mentioned," Peter reminded her.

"I'm serious," Marlene insisted. "You've seen how he's been all week—"

"—he's been _great_ all week!"

"Exactly!" Marlene said, rolling her eyes. "The boy's been tireless. He's been bubbly and helpful and encouraging and he doesn't realize it, but it's been a real pain in the arse. I'm telling you, it's a front and behind it, he's utterly miserable. Look at him now, he's _catatonic!_"

Yet again, the group shifted to peer into the living room and noted that James had yet to move. In fact, if it weren't for the slight undulation of his hair in the air conditioned breeze, one would think the tableau of young-man-on-couch was a Muggle photograph.

"Someone should talk to him," Marlene said again.

"Not me," Alice sighed. "I mean, it's _James_, and I love him, but I haven't known him all that long. You lot," and here she motioned to Lily, Remus, and Peter, "plus Sirius only moved into headquarters a few months ago after your graduation."

"Leaves me out too then," Marlene added. "She's right—it should be someone who's been close to him."

"I'm rubbish at comfort," Peter said quickly. "I think we figured that much out after… after Emmeline." The others nodded solemnly, not condemning Peter but not vindicating him from his inabilities either.

"It's down to you two then," Marlene said. Lily and Remus looked at each other.

"I'll do it," they both said together. Alice grinned ruefully.

"Listen," she said, taking charge with her gentle, easy manner. "Lily should go to James; Remus, I know Sirius promised to hex the first person who went into his room, but…" Remus closed his eyes in resignation.

"…But Mr. and Mrs. Potter were like mother and father to him after his own kicked him out." He finished. "And he needs a friend just like anyone."

"And he still refers to me as Yoko Ono," Lily pointed out, "So I can't help him there."

The group exchanged looks that were somewhere between smiles and grimaces.

"We have our assignments then," Marlene said, echoing the charge words of Edgar Bones, one of their Order leaders. "_Disperse_."

"Aye sir," the group responded automatically, without a trace of humor. Peter slipped away to the back door leading out of the kitchen, making some comment about fresh air and returning in a few hours. Alice began to gather their mugs and tidy up the countertops from the impromptu intervention meeting.

"Marlene," Lily heard Remus say as he made his way to the base of the staircase, "Could you come with me for this?"

"Me?"

"Don't play dumb," Remus said, his voice prim, "We all know what you and Sirius have been up to lately. You're…_close_." With a wry smile and no denial of the implications, Marlene turned and followed Remus up the steps to Sirius' room in the Order headquarters.

Which left Lily alone with Alice in the quiet kitchen.

"He hasn't cried yet," Alice said after a moment, her voice soft.

"I know," Lily replied. "I've been watching."

"You've been taking good care of him," Alice went on, "Giving him space…reminding him of things…of course he's been so distracted…"

"Very distracted," Lily agreed. "He's trying so hard, Al. But he's so scared." She sighed. "Here goes nothing," she said to her friend, and the older woman smiled.

"Don't pity him," Alice said as Lily made to go to the living room. "Just…_empathy_."

"Empathy."

"That's right."

"Thanks Alice."

"And Lily?"

She turned.

"He's still _James_. Don't treat him like he's broken."

At Lily's half-raised eyebrows, Alice explained,

"Frank was close with Benjy Fenwick. He trained under him in the Auror program. I've had to do my fair share of comforting what with the war on."

"I'm sorry."

"We knew what we were getting into." Alice said sadly, before offering a small, joking smile. "Now—go put your fellow to rights." Lily chuckled.

"Thanks Alice."

Steeling herself, Lily stepped over the threshold and through the sound barrier they'd thrown up—after all, it wouldn't do to have James overhearing their conversation. She made her way through the foyer and into the living room, right up to her boyfriend, but he never looked up or acknowledged her. Lily stood over him for a moment, inexplicably noticing just how _young_ he looked but how _old_ his eyes were, before she lowered onto the sofa beside him.

"Hi," she said.

He looked up with a carefully applied pleasant expression. "Hi," he replied. "Can I help you with anything?"

Lily swallowed. It would be hard to confront him when he was being so adamantly non-confrontational. It was deliberate of course, after all, James was nothing if not crafty. She now faced a conundrum she'd seen their teachers go through for seven years—how do you make James Potter do something he doesn't want to do?

"James…" she began.

"Have you looked out the window today?" he asked, beckoning at the view in front of him. "Beautiful day. The kids across the street keep playing hopscotch—"

"James," she tried.

"—but they can't draw a decent pattern to save their lives. I like the little one though, he seems to—"

"James," Lily insisted.

"—be the clever one, but the others don't listen to him. Look at him, scrappy little kid going for the chalk like that—"

"James!" Lily said.

He stopped and looked back at her. From the corner of her eye, she saw that his hands were gripping the edges of the book, like he was afraid of what was to come next.

"Yes?" He said, voice tightly controlled.

"How are you, really?" she asked. "And please don't talk about children playing hopscotch."

He shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. A little warm."

"James—"

He fixed her then with a hard look, a hard, scared look that threatened vulnerability and pain.

"I'm really fine," he said quietly. "You don't need to do this. I understand, I'm not upset, it isn't a problem, I understand. You should check on Sirius if you can. I'm really fine."

Lily waited for him to say more but it seemed as though she had been dismissed. With renewed vigor, he had returned to the book, even turning a page to prove his point. She could leave now and let him flounder in the wake of his parents' murder with everything trapped up behind a hard shell. Part of her wanted to respect his privacy, and she would have gotten up and left then but for that look in his eyes—volatile and afraid and desperately needing someone to tell him it was okay.

"_He hasn't cried yet_," she could hear Alice saying.

"_The attack was a week ago_," Peter had pointed out.

"_He's catatonic!_" Marlene cried.

She could not leave him alone with himself.

"James?" Lily said. He cocked an eyebrow but did not look at her. She sighed. "James, please, this isn't healthy and we're worried about you."

"I'm _fine_." he said adamantly.

"You're _not_." She replied, just as firm.

"Lily, what's the use anyway?" he said, looking up. "What do you want me to do? Crying won't bring them back. Talking won't bring them back. Being sad won't bring them back. There's really just nothing—" his voice caught slightly but he plowed ahead without acknowledging it, "—really nothing to about it. I'm fine. Or I'm going to be. Or, no, I _am_ fine. Go talk to Sirius." He swallowed once and returned to his book, turning another page to deter her further. Lily pursed her lips. It was an excellent cue to leave. She'd said her peace, he'd said his, they were at an impasse, and he'd begin to get angry if she pressed him further.

But she couldn't mollycoddle him just now, couldn't give in to his demands. It had been a week since the death of his parents and the blatantly false facade he wore had not slipped once. He'd been _great_, as Peter said—energetic and talkative and helpful and cavalier—but the moment his services around headquarters were no longer needed for the day, he would retreat to the living room, curl up, and just stare at the same, stupid book, as he had done today, and every day, for the past week.

So if it hurt him that she had to be the catalyst for his feelings, so be it, because she was not going to let him alternate between wearing the most happily indifferent mask in his drawer and spending hours at a time in catatonia.

"What's the _use?_" she repeated, dropping her head to catch his eyes and holding him there with a steady look. "What's the use in crying is that…well. You're human, and you really just need to do it. Otherwise…James it's like you're going to implode."

He swallowed again, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"It's not a big deal," he muttered. "I mean of course it's something, but I'm not the first person to bury his parents—or what was left of them at least—and it's not as if the world is ending, so—" He'd hiccupped his way through the last few words and her heart was really starting to break for him now. He chanced a glance up into her eyes and she raised her brows.

"'M really...really fine." He choked, "It's not...I want..."

"James," she said quietly. "Please…it's alright."

And with that, he broke down crying, the book tumbling out of his hands to land on the floor. In her surprise at the sudden change in demeanors, Lily numbly registered that the book was Sr. Potter's Auror handbook that he'd gotten when he entered training. She painfully recalled that he would have been James' age when he received it and started writing in it, making it just as much his own journal as a guide.

James ignored his father's discarded volume and pulled his knees up to his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around his legs, and buried his face in them. His glasses were pushed up to the top of his head with the force and Lily gently removed them, only causing him to shake harder. She realized with a pang of guilt this was a very maternal gesture and wondered just how many times Mrs. Potter had done so for her little boy.

"'M sorry," he moaned into his knees. "Lily, 'm sorry…"

"It's alright," she whispered, shifting her weight to be closer to him. "James, it's fine, this is good, it's alright."

She found herself at an awkward physical position to comfort him, but before she could rearrange herself, she drew her wand and pointed it at the door, closing and locking it so James' pride would be no worse for wear later on, should someone pass by. Stowing the instrument away, she managed to adjust her body till she was lying parallel to him. With another small choke, James curled into her, wrapping an arm around her waist and rubbing his face into her shoulder. Instinctually, she began to stroke his hair, running her fingers through the thick cowlicks that had always infuriated her when they were younger.

"'M sorry," he muttered again, hiccupping violently. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…."

"It's fine," she said. "It's alright James, you're human, it's alright to hurt."

"'S my _parents,_ Lily," he whispered. "Shit Lily, they killed...they killed..."

"Your mother and father loved you," she said, fully aware that she was recycling worn-out clichés of comfort and hating herself for it. "They knew what they were getting into, they'd thought this through, they'd decided..."

"But _I_ didn't!" James cried, turning his head to stare up at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes. "_I_ didn't _know_, didn't _think_...it all seemed so dangerous and romantic when we joined up, like an old action movie, one of the ones you like, but then…_Shit Lily_, they killed my _parents! _They're _gone_ and I never actually thought—"

He choked again and a hard gleam came into his eyes.

"I'll kill them," he growled. "Those bastards, I'm going to—"

But she didn't let him finish. She couldn't let him make any dark, grand dictums like that because if he verbalized the desire, then he was already half-way gone down the path of martyrdom.

"No," Lily interjected, ignoring his hurt and confusion at being interrupted in his misery. "No you will not. You will not be a vigilante, you will not be desperate, and you will not be wild. Not in a fight. You will be safe and, rest assured, get your justice, but you will not go on a hunt for revenge." He opened his mouth, obviously to object to her denying him this justified anger; but Lily cut across him again.

"You will do this," she said evenly, "Because what _am_ I supposed to do if something happens to you?" His glare softened slightly as this pith registered. "Do you want me curled up against Remus like this and the two of us crying over you? Or Sirius? What would _Sirius_ do?" From the way James' brow knitted, it was clear they both understood that Sirius, for all his boldness and gravitas, would never survive that to be the same man.

He swallowed and she knew she'd made her point.

"You're grieving," she said, still stroking is hair, "And you know that we are too, all of us; your parents were extraordinary people. Which is why we're going to take care of each other, and get through this, together. But you will _not_," and here she caught his eyes again to be sure he was listening, "Make any rash declarations and then hold yourself to them because you're so damn stubborn. You cannot put your life in the balance because you cann_ot_ do that to me, or to any of us. You're more valuable than that. Okay?"

His nose was red and his eyes puffy when he nodded.

"Okay," he said. Then after a moment: "Lily?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. I love you. I don't say that nearly enough and you never know if something is going to happen but I love you so much, okay?"

"Okay," she replied. "I love you too. More than you know." He sniffled and glanced up at her.

"I'm sorry," he said again sheepishly. "Your shirt…and you haven't seen me like this…_ever_. Oh hell, I'm a mess, I'm—"

She kissed his forehead. "It's alright. I'm your girlfriend; this is what I'm here for. Honestly, I was feeling under-utilized with you all stoic." He giggled nervously and sniffed again.

"Your shirt…" he mumbled.

"It's alright."

"I'm sorry.  
"It's alright."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He cried quietly for a moment longer before saying,

"Mum and Dad liked you a lot. You never got to know them well, what with the war on and all, but they liked you a lot."

"Really?"

"Loads. Mum would go on and on. She enjoyed making tea with you in the mornings when no one else was awake."

"She would bake bread for everybody."

"Her bread was the best." He chuckled nostalgically. "But she did try this recipe once—made the whole house stink for days…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Dad was not amused…"

And so they lay on the couch together for hours, James intermittently crying, telling stories about his mother and father, and apologizing profusely for the latter, Lily running her fingers through his hair and listening. Eventually, he stopped weeping so bitterly and she stopped expelling hackneyed phrases of support, the two of them quietly and naturally conversing until they grew drowsy and dropped off to sleep.

Later, Lily would reflect that James, for being the most singularly self-assured person she knew, looked the most singularly insecure when he was upset. And while she hoped he'd never be in that state again, she was glad to have been the one there when it happened; at least he knew that she had every intention of being there for him during the worst of the worst.

Later, James would reflect that Lily was the singularly most faithful person he'd ever met. She had seen him through as a blubbering mess with all the emotional baggage that carried—not even his best friends had witnessed him as such—and never been uncomfortable or nervous with him for it.

He asked her to marry him within a month.


End file.
